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“Then tilt that pretty little head back for me and open your mouth.”

My pussy clenches. The commanding tone in his voice is doing things to me I’ve only ever dreamed about.

So, of course, I do as he says, lifting my chin and dutifully opening.

Luke leans over me and very carefully pours a little whiskey from his glass onto my tongue. It’s just enough to run slowly across my tastebuds, allowing me a taste, and that trickle of warmth feels like it floods everywhere, igniting my veins with desire.

“More?” His husky voice is so close.

I’ve never agreed to something more enthusiastically. Nodding quickly, I open my mouth again.

This time, the liquid doesn’t hit my tongue like I’m expecting. It drips over my lower lip and runs a trickle down my chin and neck.

“Fuck. I’m going to hell for this,” I hear him groan, and then his mouth is on me. He fastens over my collarbone. Plush wet lips pair with scratches from his stubble as he sucks up the alcohol gathered there, followed by a moment that will remain forever ingrained in my memory, when he licks a scalding trail, tracing the line of whiskey up the column of my throat.

Up, up, up until he reaches my mouth.

Luke hovers there, our lips only a frantic breath apart. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s tingling with anticipation, and if I wasn’t already hot for this man, with that one sinfully sexy move, he just turned me into a complete slut, only for him.

“More?” That one word is so gravelly, so alluring. It makes heat pool low in my belly.

All I want to do is lose myself in this man. There’s no guarantee Luke will even kiss me, yet right now I’m so lost in the moment, I’m not exactly sure that I care.

Somehow, I muster up the strength to nod. In all honesty, he can have whatever he wants, and I’ll happily thank him for the opportunity. Multiple times over.

This time, his eyes roam all over me as he brings that glass up to his mouth. Lucas Rhodes studies me like he’s got all the time in the goddamn world, and I feel like I’m about to dissolve right here on the kitchen table.

“Please.” That single word gusts past my lips, shaky. I’m so unbelievably turned on. Unwrap me, unravel me—whatever he wants, it’s his.

He makes a rough noise, then takes a sip, all the while keeping my eyes entangled in his hooded gaze. Only, instead of swallowing, he leans over to cup the back of my head.

Those calloused fingers slide into my hair, and I gasp at the sensation of his heated touch.

That moment right there is all it takes. He looms over me, so commanding and utterly handsome I feel like I’m living out every single fantasy moment I’ve ever created in my mind’s eye.

And he spits into my mouth.

CHAPTER 11

We should probably be talking about why this girl has ended up in my house, on my kitchen table, with my tongue running up her slender throat.

But right now, I get the impression that Skylar doesn’t have any interest in talking.

Maybe that makes me an even worse person, but the fact that this beautiful girl was left all alone on Christmas Eve makes me determined to show her just how much she is wanted.

Fuck talking. That can come later.

I spit the whiskey into her mouth, letting the liquid trickle down, and watch, captivated, as her blue eyes go wide and she gulps everything down. The quick swipe of her tongue to wet those damn plush lips of hers has me going damn feral in an instant.

I fall on her with a noise that comes up from somewhere deep in my chest.

Sealing our lips together, it’s hot and wet, and she tastes like I’ve completely lost my damn mind. Except, it’s the single most incredible thing, feeling her softness and eagerness and the perfect way that she seems to fit against me.

We kiss like we’ve done this a thousand times before and this is just one of many, many nights where I’ve been given the gift of the beautiful girl who hums into my mouth and makes the sweetest little whimpering noises.

“Want more?” I growl against her, meeting those panting breaths of hers in an effort to disguise my own.

Skylar whimpers, and I suck down on her tongue. Each second that our mouths keep searching and exploring while my grip tightens in her hair, well, I’m ever closer to losing my damn mind.